


Stepping Stones

by sanguineheavens



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:26:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguineheavens/pseuds/sanguineheavens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some mysteries are blunt, some are subtle.  Some people look for signs and portents, some are blind even when they are branded.  Destiny draws with a pencil, with sand at the bottom of a stream, with things infinitely mutable.  There is power in every heart and every eye.  Three women follow different paths through the same maze. Veiled forces gather around them. One has a vision, one has a skill,  and one has the wisdom to ask, "Where did all this begin?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stepping Stones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScorpionGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScorpionGirl/gifts), [silentsigyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentsigyn/gifts).



_At dawn you will hear the call._

Steam from the shower on the surface of the mirror obscuring everything. Even though she knew better, Carol swiped the edge of her hand across the glass, trying to clear the moisture, seeing only a fraction more of her own face between the smeary streaks of water. She sighed, and gave up. There was no real point in fussing with the mirror, if she went out today it would only be for groceries. It was early enough that even in the kitchen she could hear no rumor of her neighbors, just the comforting churn of the coffee maker. She had left her laptop on the kitchen table the night before. Self-nagging of the highest order. Write, write, write. She put her coffee down, she picked up yesterday’s mail. She put that down, too. Restlessness was the order of a morning this early, when the day was all potential and no plan. She’d have breakfast, and she’d read the mail, and she’d check her email, and then to clear her head she’d do her shopping early. It wasn’t much, but it gave her focus, and she got going promptly.

Rain had soaked the concrete, it looked dark and newly laid, like feet would sink right into it. Like the whole block had been repaved in the night. The city was awake, in commute mode, people passing each other blank but certain, mumbling into their coffee, clutching newspapers and mobile devices, hunting out insight on what happened while they slept. Their desperation to be in the know was utterly of New York, but their honesty was of the hour. No one could prove later how hungry they’d been right now. The bakery section of the supermarket buzzed while everything else was empty, but Carol bought her fresh baked goods at the bakery down the street if she wanted them, so she avoided the crowd. Passing the lonely freezer cases, she locked eyes with the metal-masked figure in her transparent reflection. _Hello again_ , she raised her hand, so she could watch the armored fingers move. The symbol on her chest was a sun, was a cross, was a star, was a wave. She turned to fully face the glass and the image was gone. Just Carol Danvers reflected now in her cold-weather raincoat, holding the handle of a shopping basket.

Outside, the rain had begun again in earnest.

 


End file.
